


push me until i burn out

by tavrosroofies (troof)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent Fantasy, M/M, everything in this fic is consensual, everything is negotiated, fear of sex, handjobs, mildly, warning is there for a mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troof/pseuds/tavrosroofies
Summary: Feeling this way around Shiro...it's new. It's really new. And the way he is, he finds it hard to give Shiro what he wants. He wants to, though. Maybe it would be easier if Shiro just takes it.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Kudos: 35





	push me until i burn out

The sheets breathe where he presses his face into them. The fabric is cool against his cheek. Every time he sleeps here, it feels really good in the summer: soft against his skin, while the evening sun swelters the sidewalk in waves that shimmer the air. Shiro must have a really high thread count, or so he's told. He's heard that's a myth.

Shiro should be coming in any second now; Keith contemplates faking slumber, but decides against it in the end because it contributes nothing to what they're doing--whether he's asleep or awake at the outset, he'll be awake when Shiro starts--and that's the whole idea behind it, right?

Inhaling through his nose so the air fills his belly, Keith tells himself not to run. The whole idea behind these rape fantasies is that they remove the dilemma of choice--he's just got to get there first. 

Keith inhales again, with his left hand, twists the sheets, and gently flops over to the other side, steadily watching the door. Shiro--he's in love with Shiro.

When Shiro comes in, the first thing he takes is Keith's wrists, first securing them behind his back with his hands, and then binding them with cloth. Handcuffs were the easiest in their trials but Keith was already a delinquent--no need to go back to those days when they're dealing with something else. Keith does resist, but he forgets there's no breaking the grip of the prosthetic. He could have kicked Shiro, but it occurs to him too late, and by then, his hands are already secured.

He wants to call out Shiro's name, but the sound lodges in his throat. Instead, he swallows it down, and squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as possible. Shiro has pinned him, but not like this. 

They've been in this exact position countless times on the arena mats, most of the time in the beginning when Keith was still stupid enough to give Shiro his back. But Shiro would always release him after he said 'yield.' Here, the release doesn't come.

"Keith," Shiro says softly to get his attention, despite Keith's wriggling and the control Shiro's got on Keith's movements with his weight straddling Keith's thighs. Keith wriggles again, and from his wrists, Shiro removes his hands, confident that the binding will hold.

It's this that gets Keith more than anything: Shiro's confident assurance that he's already subdued.

"I love you," he says equally as softly, settling his human hand on Keith's left bicep, maneuvering him slightly so that he can see the curve of his face. 

Keith mumbles curses into the sheets, even as he tries halfheartedly to buck Shiro off. Shiro doesn't react personally, just runs his hands up Keith's back until they can loop around his shoulders and moulds the entire length of his body along Keith's back.

"Mmn--" 

Keith whines high in his throat and there's no stopping it. It isn't the bulge of the cock pressed against his lower back that he fears, it's the response of his body _to_ Shiro; he's never enjoyed the thought of being a puddle in someone's embrace, but that's exactly what Shiro has vowed to turn him into because he can't do it otherwise. 

Shiro breathes in, and noses at Keith's throat at the same time he reaches around to grope Keith's cock. Keith yelps and tries to pull away, bury that part of himself in the covers, but again, Shiro has a grip on his arms and won't let him roll over. Jerking at his arms, Keith tries to kick his legs against the bed in a last attempt to lever himself free, but Shiro hooks one of his thighs over Keith's smaller one and hooks his shin in between.

He wants to hide, but it feels so good being touched by Shiro. There's a pressure on his body he never realized was missing; but now that it's there, he doesn't see how he could have lived without it earlier.

None of the pressure lets up against his cock as Shiro feels up the length of his shaft, massages his balls, then toys with him by rubbing circles around his tip, which he knows by the feeling is leaking a wet spot into his boxers; he feels warm and sticky.

"Keith."

Keith shudders against Shiro's chest, feeling Shiro's breath flutter against his ear. The pleasure lances through him, starting with his groin all the way until it's something he can feel in his throat, and he groans openly realizing he can't fight Shiro, not truly. His desire won't let him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Keith pants.

It's not that he thought Shiro would not feel good, but--fuck.

"Can you take your clothes off for me?" Shiro asks from behind. Gentle, like he doesn't mean to startle.

Again, the sound lodges in Keith's throat. He reaches his hands down to his hips in preparation to slide down the waistband of his shorts, but at the last second, he freezes, curling his hands into loose fists by his sides.

It says something about the abject terror inside him that he freezes up like this--it hasn't happened anywhere else, not in battle, not when fighting an army, or speaking in front of the entire galaxy. 

He and Shiro have had sex before, but it wasn't really--productive. Something inside Keith pulled back before it could ever start really feeling good.

Thankfully, without saying anything, Shiro does it for him: hands coming down to cover his own and sliding the thick cotton down over his knees.  
Cutoff sweatpants: perfect for every occasion.

Keith lifts his arms up to help Shiro take off his shirt. Aside from that, there's no assistance given.

"It should be a lot easier to pleasure you like this," Shiro says lowly, not quite a whisper but just above the threshold where his voice still has devastating substance. He draws a fingertip up Keith's side, from the curve of his buttocks to the swell of his ribs. Again, it makes him shiver.

Shiro's hand is finally off his cock, giving him a moment to think straight, but then it goes right into rubbing his belly in circles like he's trying to soothe. Keith presses back into Shiro unconsciously, and Shiro leans over him to capture his mouth for a languid kiss while he runs his hands over his biceps. 

"Naked? Yeah, no shit."

"I'm letting that go because you're scared."

"Scared? I'm not--mm-" Shiro cuts him off with another kiss, and the way his tongue twirls with his and licks into Keith's mouth makes his fingers flex uselessly behind his back.

"You are. Doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you, though." The kiss doesn't last nearly long enough, though.

Something on Keith's face must clue him in to the problem, because one second later, Shiro's sucking on Keith's bottom lip, probably hard enough to leave a bruise. Keith nips at Shiro's lip, just like they're playing, and he must be distracted because he doesn't notice Shiro having time to get the lube until he slips a finger unannounced into Keith's entrance.

"Hah--"

Immediately, he breaks the kiss and snaps his legs shut around Shiro, or at least tries to, his knees knocking against his sides. 

It's a lot, but Shiro doesn't apologize. Keith exhales harshly as he tries to adjust to the burn and the stretch.

"That does _not_ feel good," Keith breathes out.

"I'm sorry. Thought you said you stretched yourself last night." But he doesn't pull out the finger.

"I said I was thinking about it."

 _Be rough,_ he said to Shiro. Until this point, he almost thought he wasn't rough enough. Keith wriggles his hips as he tries to get comfortable, and he can feel himself clenching. He wonders if Shiro feels that.

For some reason, Shiro pauses.

"What?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

Then he's moving his finger, and Keith rides that helpless feeling again when Shiro finds his prostate. It's like he's stuck--cresting up and down with the waves, rising with them, sinking down when they do, and vaguely he knows he's pleasing Shiro--Shiro gets off on this as much as he does, they've been together long enough for him to know that's not a lie. 

Deep in his brain, there's a voice that wants him to stop. Says he's being too vulnerable. That he's giving Shiro too much of him. 

Then Shiro puts in another finger, and he's massaging him, and he's so easily found the spot that makes his whole body tremble and makes Keith's cock drip, and drip, and drip. Is he that transparent?

He wants so badly to run, but this is Shiro. Shiro will never give away his secrets.

He doesn't know if he gets off on the helplessness of it all, or the sensation, or even what his body's doing anymore. He knows he likes kissing Shiro, but sometimes even that is too much. When Shiro runs a hand up his flank, feels the shape of his body there, it makes colors flicker behind his eyes. 

He doesn't want to come, but he wants to very bad. 

"You're so sensitive," Shiro tells him, right before using his other hand to trace a vein on his cock.  
"Tell me how sensitive you are, and how close to cumming, and I'll let you come."

Shiro's hand comes up and encloses his cock and his thumb starts playing over the slit. Coated in lube, of course. Keith closes his eyes and flutters his eyelashes in the hopes that if he ignores it long enough, he won't have to answer.

"Say, 'Shiro, my cock is sensitive and I want to come.'"

Keith frowns, and while he's still pumping his fingers inside Keith, Shiro leans in to kiss him. "I'm really sensitive--" Keith whispers while he's close--he doesn't think he could say it at any other time--and that pulls him over the edge. 

\---

"Thank you," Keith says afterwards. The sun shines through the slats in the blinds. It's late evening, now that they've both showered, and the yellow light illuminates small particles of dust and bathes Shiro in a backlit glow. 

"You're thanking me for sex?"

"No, I mean--what I asked." The thing he asked Shiro for late two weeks ago wasn't just sex, it was unconventional. Like something you should talk out with a therapist, if Keith had any trust in them. It occurred to him afterwards that he should thank Shiro for bringing him through this. 

"Oh." Shiro smiles, and as Keith looks away he touches his elbow. "It's not weakness, you know. Feeling things." The corners of Keith's mouth twist down, and he stares at Shiro in puzzlement. "The Blades do it too."

"Do what?" 

"Have sex. Become intimate. Enjoy other people." 

"I know that," Keith snaps, and he doesn't mean for it to come out so harshly. He clears his throat. "I mean...I know that. It's just new to me." 

At the orphanage, having to be tough--no one touched him unless they wanted to discipline him, or they were taking something, or they were moving him from one place to another. The Garrison was much the same way. Shiro is the only one he's ever been close to, who showed him more than the impassive face he was used to receiving from the rest of the world.

But he knows Shiro understands. "Do we have to get ready for tomorrow? I wanna stay with you," he says, curling up to Shiro's chest. It's the one bad thing about doing this on a Sunday. Tomorrow, they both have responsibilities. He had sucked Shiro off in the shower after their romp, as blow jobs are much more his forte. 

Shiro pets his hair, then cradles his head against his chest. "Stay with me then. We'll make it work."


End file.
